


Lack

by notcrindy



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Multi, Tags to be added, and i've been thinking about it for a long time so, i hope i can do it justice, i'm really hesitant to follow something so excellent up but it might be healing, people need to heal from trauma right now. thanks, shoutout of course to the original fic, this is the aftermath of Luster and it's about recovery, you know it's good when i change the fucking title
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-04-18 07:25:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14208132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrindy/pseuds/notcrindy
Summary: After the events of "Luster," Taako tries.Sometimes that's all you can do.





	1. Prologue/Concept

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Luster](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184620) by [Sunruner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunruner/pseuds/Sunruner). 



It should feel  _ good, _ at least, when Taako finally gets his body back.

He should feel a sense of  _ victory, _ a sense of  _ pride, _ a sense of  _ things have been so robbed from him _ but he’s  _ back, baby, the comeback kid like always, fuck you  _ **_Patrice_ ** _ \-- _ he knows he should. Taako should be  _ grateful,  _ and he’s been fitted with a prosthetic that probably lots of cripples would actually envy, somethin’ straight out of sci-fi and the result of having way too nerdy of friends. He should be glad just to be  _ alive, _ to be safe, to be  _ out of that entire ordeal forever. _

Instead, he feels nothing. Well, that’s not accurate. He feels goddamn  _ suspicious, _ though. He’s not entirely sure he’s not still trapped in some  _ hellscape, _ some amulet, a hologram, a nothing. He goes through times, with Kravitz, of being okay in a sort of shaky way, and being convinced he’s probably fake. None of them feel  _ real _ to him, especially not at first, especially as Lup hugs him close and sobs until she’s hoarse about the entire fucking ordeal. Barry gives him a pretty big hug, too.

Reuniting should feel like  _ anything, anything  _ at all.

It’s nothing instead.

The first night back in his body and fitted with the prosthetic, he can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about how ugly he is, how  _ flawed _ it makes him now, and he gets flashbacks to Patrice’s voice and the way she slammed him for using magic. He won’t dare use  _ any _ of it, not even Disguise Self, not anymore, just in case. His eyes are haunted and hunted and--and it’s hard for him to be with Kravitz, even though Kravitz wants to be with him and there for him  _ so badly, _ so he…

...he crashes with Barry and Lup. Just for a little while.

Just needs his twin there.

And she  _ is _ there, 24/7. Ever since it happened she’s constantly near him, soothing him and herself, thanking everything that they’re together again and promising that  _ this  _ time, nothing will part them. This time, they’re back together for good, and he smiles softly and tries to believe her, tries not to let her know how broken he feels, tries to appreciate the way she holds him close.

“You  _ need _ to eat, T. Something.  _ Anything. _ Doesn’t have to be anything big.”

He’s tested the food here. No bad feeling to it like… ...before. It  _ seems _ real, and that should probably make it tempting. His sister’s food has always been some of his  _ favorite _ food, and she looks so hopeful every time she serves something up. At first, she’d maybe gotten too carried away and tried to make him their aunt’s turkey and a huge cake to celebrate his arrival back into his body, but he’d taken one bite of the cake and the cake had been so  _ sweet _ and--

\--and the rest of the time was spent dissociating and dry heaving on the bathroom floor, while she apologized over and over again. She’s tried to move on to simpler dishes, occasionally getting him to eat a few buttered noodles or a piece of toast, and Taako can tell from the  _ feeling _ of it all that it’s not an illusion, that it’s all real. So he tries, but infrequently. And he moves, but rarely. And Lup so hates that she has to go back to work, although her loyalty to the Raven Queen has improved by tenfold since the entire fucking incident, but he does nothing. All day.

Sits in bed.

Nothing else.

The whole affair is a pretty goddamn big deal, both for the Brand and for the world at large. He hasn’t wanted to make any appearances with the goddamn stump, not like this, so he’s had Ren speak for him at several functions and that should have been good enough. She doesn’t bother him nearly as much about the business; he can’t get in the right headspace for it at all.

Can’t meet with fans, because Patrice--

No one struggles with it more than Kravitz, though.

Maybe Angus, too. He’s a tough kid, tougher than most for sure, but he never deserved to see what he had to see. Never deserved to deal with what he had to deal with, and that would break Taako’s heart for sure if he had any heart left to break. But Kravitz  _ hurts _ to see him, Kravitz hurts  _ so much _ for him, and Taako can’t--

\--can’t be around that right now without  _ losing his mind, so. _

So no Kravitz, right now.

No Lucretia, either.

He doesn’t get any more letters.

Today, he picks a jar of honey. It’s been his first month back. He feels almost not entirely in control as he rummages around in cabinets and finds it, and immediately he  _ shivers _ involuntarily just to smell it, but he takes a spoon decisively and dunks it in, scooping out the biggest gob of honeyglow he can manage before closing his lips around it and swallowing it down. Some of it threatens to come back up, but it doesn’t, so he just sits on the ground eating honey until it physically makes whatever’s left of his body ill, and then he panics and  _ throws _ the jar, watching as it  _ explodes _ against a cabinet.

Then, he gets sick.

Lup comes home to stuff like this a lot. He’s still getting used to the leg; she says something about physical therapy, about  _ regular _ therapy and his mind shuts down. Cleric for brains. He doesn’t need any goddamn cleric for brains -- why is that even a  _ thing?  _ She says he’ll be all right, and she says it often, and she wonders if he’ll ever believe her.

He probably won’t.

He still can’t ride the train.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emetophobia tw. why is this always in my stories tbh.

Taako has too much pride to stay indoors and wither.

That does wind up being the ultimate course of action, naturally, but before he resigns to it his first appearance back is as public as possible. Everyone’s treating him like spun glass, but the neat thing about spun glass is that it’s  _ pretty, _ it’s made when heat strikes the ground so fierce that the ground has nothing to do but become something beautiful. Fragile? Sure, okay, he’ll take that label with a heaping dollop of  _ fuck you, _ but he  _ glistens _ and  _ glimmers _ same as always.

“You  _ sure _ you’re okay to do this, Taaks?” Lup wonders hesitantly, hovering. “Ren won’t  _ mind _ if you have to cancel still, she  _ gets _ it, she--”

“Ye of little faith, huh?” He quips, and it’s a mindless statement. It’s pointedly  _ not _ thinking about the hollow behind his eyes, hoping that if his eye makeup pops  _ enough _ people won’t notice there’s nothing in there anymore. Optimistically, he hopes that maybe there was never anything there to  _ begin _ with; can’t rob Taako of something he never had, so that’s the assumption he’ll be going with today. Gives himself a glance over in the mirror. Pretty, perfect, rotting inside. So pretty much a-okay.

Lup makes a discontented sound. “It’s not  _ that, _ ” she insists. “Miss me with  _ that _ shit; you  _ know  _ I always got you. But it’s… ...you don’t  _ have _ to do this yet, Taako. It’s still so  _ soon. _ ”

_ Soon. _ He wants to laugh at the thought, but he doesn’t. To call it  _ soon, _ though, is just so absurd. He’s been back  _ two _ months now, which should be more than enough time for him to get over everything. Sorry, Lulu, but Taako can’t put his entire life and career on  _ pause _ just because he couldn’t catch a break for a little while there. “Two months,” he reminds her, and his lashes are perfect even without the assistance of Disguise Self, and his clothes are  _ real _ and don’t feel and look like  _ garbage _ , so.

“Yeah, that’s  _ soon, _ ” she tries. “Soon as  _ fuck. _ ”

“Sixty or so days, right?” Now the lipstick. He’s rifling through  _ her _ collection first; Patrice never would’ve had even an inkling of what Lup liked to wear, much less any other sane person with any fashion sense whatsoever. Settles on a shade of pink that’s just obvious enough it might draw attention away from  _ other _ parts of his visage he’s not so stoked about, and the motion of putting the lipstick on is fluid, is easy. It’s a non-thought, a muscle memory, and that helps.

“ _ Soon, _ ” she persists, and he’s not  _ surprised _ that she does because--well, because that’s just  _ Lup, _ stubborn as ever. But he’s a little annoyed now, enough to try to turn with a flourish and put a hand on his hip, staring her right in the eyes.

“Gettin’ further from it every day, Lu.”

She sighs at the utterance of his new mantra. “Yeah, I  _ know, _ but--”

“This’ll be  _ good _ for me,” he assures her, even as he starts to turn but the leg isn’t as fluid with him as he needs it to be, as intuitive, and it catches him a  _ little  _ off-guard. “Stupid robo-leg. Finest in technology my  _ ass. _ ”

There must be something a little real and harsh to his tone because she tugs at his hand a little in a very real and very specific way and he knows to look at her. “Look, I--I get it, okay? Or well, I can’t possibly like-- _ get _ what you’re going through in a personal way, what’s going down in that head of yours. But I know you just want to get back to the way shit was before, like--”

“Then you know I’m done talking.” His voice is a little more irritated than he wants it to be; he’s so grateful to be back with her, and the last thing he wants to seem like is an ass. Not when they’ve finally reunited  _ again, _ not when the odds have stacked against both of them so significantly and they’ve still fucking wound up together again  _ every time.  _ In their bodies, or what’s  _ left _ of them, despite all odds. Taako should celebrate that, he  _ knows, _ and as soon as that sentence leaves his mouth he regrets it in full.

“Well, _ okay, _ then. Excuse  _ me _ for worrying about you,” she murmurs too quietly, and he knows how much he’s fucked up by how she won’t look in his eyes. “I think I have a little  _ cause _ to do that now,  _ sorry. _ ”

Okay, changing tactics. Changing tactics and moods because like hell if he doesn’t know, in his own way, exactly how she feels. Like  _ fuck _ if he still doesn’t have so many times when he worries about her, needs to know exactly where she’s going, and he lost her  _ years  _ ago. It’s weird to call not remembering the loss a luxury, but he knows in a very real way that he can’t comprehend what she went through knowing he was gone. Knowing that just as she got him back--just like he’d gotten  _ her _ back--he was ripped away from her. It  _ still _ haunts him, even in dreams, sometimes. So okay, he’ll drop the attitude for a sec.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says, in a voice so soft he wouldn’t think he’s capable of it right now. No soul, no feelings, but what comes out is borne of love nonetheless. He doesn’t know if that’s reassuring or if it is, in its own way, completely horrifying total bullshit, but whatev. “You’re  _ right, _ okay? You’re allowed to worry. Universe pulled too much on us for a little while there. I’m… I’m sorry, Lulu.”

When tears escape her eyes, he… ...wants to go. He wants to pretend he doesn’t notice them, sputter something about well-look-at-the-time-we-really-should-be-on-our-way-huh, do his usual avoidant bullshit. Because Taako doesn’t  _ do _ feelings, and he’ll insist that to actual hell and back, especially now that he’s been there and witnessed it himself. He doesn’t  _ do _ the emotional thing but especially not now, especially not  _ lately, _ especially not now that he doesn’t fucking  _ have _ any. But he loves her enough to… ... _ try _ to have some, and he cares enough to wipe a tear from her eyes.

“But you don’t  _ have _ to worry, okay? I got this. I wouldn’t be  _ doing _ this if I didn’t  _ have _ this, and plus you’ll be there with me the whole time. If anyone tries any nasties, they’re taking us  _ both _ down."

That’s said to give  _ her _ reassurance because she needs it and he doesn’t, natch. But it succeeds in giving him some as a little bonus, because this time it won’t be just him--it  _ won’t _ be just him and it won’t be him against Something Big and Powerful and Fucking Tasteless, and it won’t be him worrying about dragging her into any kind of shenanigans and potentially fucking up her shot at not being gloriously  _ wrecked _ to high hell by a glorified lizard. It’s gonna be both of them like normal, it’s gonna be Taako and Lup against the world the way it always has been and always should be.

“Guess that’s true,” she admits, smiling slightly. “I wouldn’t let you out of this fucking  _ house _ if it weren’t.”

“I wouldn’t fucking  _ leave _ if it weren’t,” he says without thinking about what it means, that -- that Taako can’t afford alone time, not anymore. “So we’re good, okay? Gonna have you ‘n’ the whole crew and ain’t nothin’ ruining that.”

“Nope,” Lup agrees, this time sounding more sure of him and wiping her own tears away. “Never, ever again. For  _ realskies _ this time.”

“No bullshit,” he reinforces back at her.

“No bullshit. Okay.”

So with that emotional catharsis out of the way, and a piece of toast with jam because there’s literally no way in hell he’s ever eating on the train (not even if you fucking  _ paid _ him, and Taako’s not one to turn down a good gold piece or fifty), they’re off. 

This train ride is just for them, but in a more real sense, it’s just for Taako. It’s just what he  _ needs _ to do to move past it, and he’s reassured Lup of this about a thousand times. She won’t ever let him go alone, not ever again, and he probably wouldn’t be able to go by himself anymore, truth be known. But he’s  _ got _ to stop avoiding the train like it’s the cause of this, like it’s the  _ problem _  because his life and work have both always involved travel and he  _ needs _ to move on like, yesterday.

It’s really not so bad at first, anyway. It’s not so bad  _ getting _ there, so he thinks maybe he kind of overdramatized the whole “using the train again” sitch in general. It’s definitely a possibility if nothing else; Taako’s always about that drama, and sometimes he even zags on himself for the thrill of it. But once they’re escorted to seats and the train starts to move and he watches as the scenery out the window  _ shifts _ with the movement, he’s back there.

He’s… ...right back there? Only it’s not  _ possible _ for him to be right back there, because he’s two months out. He’s two months out, right? He  _ got _ out, didn’t he, so it doesn’t make sense when the entire world changes and he  _ sees _ Patrice’s crummy little halfling disguise standing in front of him, so fucking demure. It doesn’t make any sense when he can smell honey in the air, and it  _ especially _ doesn’t add up that he starts  _ tasting _ it, the fucking bite of the apple cloying and clawing at the back of his throat until he can’t  _ breathe, _ he can’t--

“Taako,” says Lup’s voice from far away.

He can’t respond to her; he can’t think straight; he can’t  _ see _ things and he’s been  _ drugged _ and he needs to reach her and tether himself back to that voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to get  _ back  _ there. He needs to reach someone, anyone, but especially  _ her.  _ She’s all he’s needed this whole goddamn time, and he can’t stomach a life and world without her anymore, he just can’t, he just--

“You okay?” She’s squeezing his hand. It’s  _ her _ squeezing his hand, it’s definitely her because this isn’t a stunt Patrice ever tried to pull. It’s definitely Lup sitting next to him, keeping a close eye on him, and not anything or anyone else. “If you can’t do this, I  _ promise, _ we can just put it off. Wait a few more months, maybe, see how stuff feels--”

“I’m good,” he reassures her, smiling his absolute brightest. “We’re cool.”

She’s studying him with a scrutiny that no one else on this earth could ever possess, but he’s far enough away and on enough of an autopilot that he skirts past even  _ her  _ and evades her eagle eyes. “Okay,” she finally says after a moment of this. “If you’re sure. But you have to swear to me that if you’re uncomfortable, even for a  _ second, _ you’ll let me know. And we can go home.”

“I  _ swear, _ ” he lies, and it’s easy. He’s used to giving the people what they want from him, and in this case Lup wants the exact same  _ thing _ as him, so that’s good motivation right there. They both want him to be okay, to  _ seem _ okay, so he can do that. Trick to lying is you have to believe yourself, even a little. He can bullshit with the best of ‘em, and some stupid failed kidnapping hasn’t changed that in the least. “I’m totally good to go, ‘kay?”

And he is.

And it’s fine.

Everything’s okay until he--blinks? He blinks and he’s--at a podium, and doesn’t remember how he got there. Which again, is  _ totally _ cool and one hundred percent kosher because sometimes he has little lapses of memory these days. He did  _ before, _ anyway. Not everything has to be such a goddamn production all the time, and he can recover from things like this. “So, uh, yeah,” Taako admits to a sea of people, and he doesn’t exactly know where he is and he doesn’t really care, not right then. “I’ve been off-track for awhile, but uh. Taako’s  _ back, _ baby! And better than ever. And y’all can take  _ that _ to the bank.”

He is deliberately  _ not _ paying attention to Lup’s face at the moment, but he’s even  _ more _ not paying attention to anyone else’s, even though they all showed up to support him like the big saps they are. The clapping is like music to his ears when it comes, starting with his little ragtag section of the crowd at first and then building to a more thunderous applause, which is a good indication to him that he’s done well. Normalizes him a little; balances him out some, and makes him think this was a good decision after all.

“So you were part of this dragon’s  _ hoard? _ ” A member of the crowd asks outright, but he doesn’t let it startle him.

"Can you  _blame_ 'em?" He deflects like a pro, grin wide and toothy and Fantasy Crest brilliant. "I'm a rarity."

“We’ve all heard about the Isle by now, not to mention the countless priceless items and artifacts destroyed there--what do you estimate the damage done might be?”

“Should we  _ all _ be wary of dragons?”

“What does this say about the current state of train security?”

“Did you have to take a train to get here?”

He doesn’t let it bother him. It’s normal for the people to have questions; they’re hungry for Taako, and he can’t blame ‘em. The tongues before him are speaking  _ rapidly, _ but he’s fucking fine with it. This is part of being a universally known and celebrated celebrity; people are  _ happy _ that he’s back and glad for his return, and it’s  _ fine. _

“It’s natural for all of you to have questions,” he manages brightly, “but I’d appreciate it if you’d redirect most of them to my lovely right-hand lady Ren, okay? Thanks.”

“Why do you call them  _ Patrice? _ ”

It’s a simple question. It’s justified, even. That’s the one that throws him, though, and he deflects them again politely before he stumbles off stage and before he can get a grip on himself, pukes up the toast. Literally spews it all back up in front of a huge crowd of people, tries to give everyone a thumbs up, then buckles and faints. The sounds of surprise and astonishment from them all should be comforting or something--he should care that  _ they _ care, but he doesn’t want them to notice. Or have witnessed it. Or literally anything.

Lup is by him  _ lightning _ quick when he comes to, and so are Barry and Magnus.

“Well,  _ that’s _ gonna be a PR nightmare,” he babbles before he can get a grip on himself, laughing a little and trying to play it off. “But hey, I’ve saved  _ all _ y’all’s asses, think I can be afforded a little, a little leniency at this time, right?”

They laugh good-naturedly along with him. Fuckin’  _ vultures. _ Gonna be in all the major publications later and that’s gonna suck actual dicks, but for now Lup is so close to him and letting him know that it’s okay, he’s doing  _ so good, _ and pretty soon everyone lets him know. Ren takes the stage gracefully as ever, and he’s so fuckin’ thankful for her. Gotta make sure to get her a nice fruit basket or something.

“We’re going home,” Lup whispers. “It’s okay, Taaks. You tried and you did so  _ well, _ okay?”

“No,” he hisses frantically, not entirely in control of the words. “Not  _ yet, _ I’ll be fine, I just need to compose myself. I need to figure out what the next move is. For the Brand. That’s what everyone wants to know, right, they--they want to--”

“Taako,” Barry argues gently, “bud, they want to know how you’re  _ doing. _ ”

“And I’m doing  _ great, _ ” he whispers back a little too loudly. “Peachy, one hundo percent cool, back on my feet, back in the saddle. They need to know I’m still  _ good _ for it, okay?”

“And now they know,” Merle interjects softly. “Now they  _ know, _ Taako. It’s okay. We can go home.”

“Love, you have nothing to prove,” Kravitz finally speaks up, and Taako  _ sees _ how unsure and hurt he is by all of this. He can see it splayed out on Kravitz’s whole magical mockup of what a human face should look like, that pain, and that worry, and he  _ hates _ it. He fucking  _ hates _ it, he can’t stand it, but those words after a good few months of trying to avoid them and him are what do it.

Taako has  _ everything _ to prove, and no one's demanding proof.

When he finally gives up and lets them lead him away, he feels like a bad actor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is a thing now and i... kind of couldn't stop writing it once i started. again, i just really hope i've done this concept any justice at all and that i will *continue* to. thank you so much for the kind words and the support so far, though. <3 they mean everything. thanks for watching me try to heal this boy over and over again.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extremely brief and just hinted at mention of past sexual abuse. for like, one bit of a sentence, but i do feel like i should include the warning so. yeah.

Yup. It’s a goddamn PR nightmare.

They try to _keep_ the news from him, but Taako doesn’t even need them going that far for him to know he’s fucked up. He has no memory of it; he has no memory of the train ride back, or the way that apparently Lup holds his hand and won’t let go for anything. Life falls out of step and time with him and the next thing he knows he’s back with his twin and her husband. He refuses to eat anymore, can’t even try after the whole thing with the toast, and retreats to bed.

The bed is useless because he also won’t sleep. _Can’t_ sleep, which would be fine since sleep is unnecessary anyway, but he refuses to allow himself to meditate, either. He had to _train_ himself, in true former street urchin fashion, to view any kind of rest as the height of luxury. After so much time spent on the road and on his toes, outcast but never alone, it felt nice for a little while to think that maybe sleep was something he had _earned._ Rest of any kind was something he _deserved_  because he poured his sweat and blood and tears into climbing his way to the top again and again. Rest was for the well-to-do, for anyone who wasn’t a scrappy orphan of twelve years old learning to pickpocket his way into survival and primp and preen his way into the pants of men more than twice his size. So even though his every instinct, even _without_ the memory of Lup to protect and tug along, told him that rest wasn’t safe and he had to be on the lookout… ...he learned to give in, to surrender, to nap lazily like a cat basking in sunlight and meditate with a clear mind.

Now Taako realizes that what he thought all along was practiced pampering was self-delusion.

He does drift in and out of consciousness, of course, sometimes. He _has_ to, for a bare and set minimum of four hours a day, same as any elf. But it’s not restful, not anymore. He can’t remember the last time he got a fucking decent night’s sleep. Or morning’s sleep. Or meditation. Or a quick catnap or resting of the eyes or--or whatever the fuck you want to call it, no. Because he had been prone to night terrors while sleeping for a good while before he let himself relax, but now it--it’s different. Night terrors involved _thrashing, screaming, crying out for help_ all with the mercy of not remembering it later, though it unsettled anyone who dared to bunk with him other than Lup.

These aren’t even _nightmares,_ either, because as stupid and vivid as those can be and as haunted as he might feel by them… ...they have a flavor to them he can discredit as decidedly unreal, usually. Or he can try to remind himself, no matter how difficult, that he’s no longer youthful and helpless or a celebrity watching people keel over or even, _even_ in Patrice’s foul clutches. He can try best he can to feel the bed, to know the surroundings, and even though it’s not always enough to assure him that it’s _real,_ it’s more tangible than what’s started to plague him.

Because there’s no set time for rest, it happens whenever his stupid and broken body decides it’s had enough of his deprivation and nonsense. On the occasions that he leaves the bed and decides it’s not _too_ overwhelming outside of the room in which he’s staying, he’ll wander to the couch or the kitchen or even to the hallway. Sometimes he can _swear_ he’s just sitting there, that he hasn’t at all drifted before he _snaps_ up with a terrible gasp. And sometimes Lup or Barry will be there, and they’ll _start_ like they keep doing lately, and they’ll rush to his side. Or sometimes he’s alone.

Either way, it’s… ...not a memory, not like memories are supposed to be. Because he weirdly doesn’t flash back to anything specific, doesn’t recall any nightmares in which any ordeals plague him. One minute he’s conscious, hyperaware, and the next he’s taking gulps of breath like he’s never been allowed to breathe before, like he’s drowning and just resurfacing. He tries to write them off, for the sake of his appearance to others, as a fluke--but it _keeps goddamn happening,_ and the more it happens, the more scared he is to rest, so--

\--so he’s smart enough not to touch anything that might wire him up, ‘cuz that’ll just make the panic _worse_ , but--

\--but he’s not resting. They just _think_ he is.

They just think he is and he’s in the guest room, staring blankly up at the plaster. As always, he keeps track of the things Patrice never replicated, or _wouldn’t_ because he wouldn’t let them in on it. The jeans draped over a chair in the corner are _decidedly_ Bluejeans and no one else, not tacky enough to be the dragon’s handiwork to their credit. The mattress certainly isn’t there to lure him into a false sense of security, because it’s uncomfy as all _shit,_ and he nearly feels about three centuries older than his actual physical body is because his back hurts like _hell._ He’s opted to wear one of Lup’s old IPRE shirts, and it almost fits him perfectly but not quite, loose enough to feel like pajamas and smelling and feeling enough like home. Which Patrice never used, wouldn’t use, because they had their own shitty ideas about his wardrobe and their ideas were both much gaudier than he’d ever willfully cloak himself in and too flashy for his twin’s old work clothes.

So those are some things.

He tries to ignore the outrageous thudding in his chest, the tingling of his hands with adrenaline, as he reminds himself that _he can breathe._ He probably has, hopefully, this whole time. He works carefully on trying to manage his heartbeat enough that he doesn’t have to feel it throughout his whole body and _hear_ it in the darkness, because that’s pretty much the goddamn worst.

And then, when he’s satisfied with that, he sits up.

Taako’s ears twitch and perk up _way_ too readily, and he’s on the alert too fast.

At first, when he hears the muffled sound of voices outside the door, he flinches. Doesn’t know why, because there are only two voices it could be, and neither of them would lead him astray, but he’s jumpy. Still manages to steel himself against the fear, allowing his ears to hone in more closely on the sound outside.

“I’m… I’m _worried,_ Barry.”

They’re trying to be hush-hush, which makes him want to move even closer to the door.

“I know you are, babe,” Barry reassures. “So am I.”

For a moment, his mind sees the nearest and stupidest conclusion and makes a running leap for it, too willing to abandon any semblance of rational thought. He _lets_ it go there, and looking back on it he knows he wouldn’t normally, but for now, it doesn’t matter. Something _terrible_ has happened; someone else has gone missing, and it’s someone he _cares enough about_ for them to _hide_ it from him. They’re _hiding_ something from him, a crisis, and how fucking _dare_ they because he has just as much a right to know as anyone else.

His mind _leaps_ and _bounds,_ hop-skipping over anything that isn’t terror.

It’s _Angus._

It’s _Kravitz._

No, it’s _definitely_ Angus. He’s the smallest and the most vulnerable, no matter how brilliant of a detective or truthfully _outstanding_ of a kid he is, and it’d be all too easy to just nab him. He can _hear_ the terror, he can _feel_ it still, and more than that he can feel almost a blinding _rage,_ which compels him to just stumble out of bed. To hell with all goofs and affectations, reputations and stoicism--he’s ready to fucking die for the kid already, even as he forgets the prosthetic and it’s not quite quick enough. No weapons in here, no magic that he can use to his advantage, but if Lup and Barry are in on this sitch already then they’ll fetch that shit for him and help him out.

He goes for the door, tries the handle with all the determination in the world, thinking this is maybe what mama cubs feel when someone is trying to fuck with their children or some shit and then trying even in the heat of the moment to shove that thought _out_ of his head…

...and it’s jammed.

It’s stuck.

It’s them.

Oh, god.

He’s trapped.

He jiggles the handle again. No, no, _no._ How could he let himself get so tricked, _again?_ Fuck this. He never made it out and suddenly that’s all he can think, he feels so raw and out in the open, an amulet unheard again _never made it out never made it out tricked you tricked you never made it never made it dead outside of here fuck you Patrice fuck you_ **_Patrice fuck_ ** _you Patrice fuck_ **_you_ ** _Patrice no no no no no_ grasping the handle and he can’t even do it anymore and he’s collapsed to the floor but it’s not _real_ he’s _nothing_ he’s a _projection_ he’s a piece of _jewelry_ he--

“Taako, baby.”

It’s Lup’s voice. Thank Istus it’s _Lup’s_ voice because he needs Lup, oh god, he loves her, oh god he _loves_ her, oh god he _loves her he loves her he loves her he loves her_ and she takes those thoughts and she holds him warm in her hands. No, not as jewelry. Not as shitty enchanted amulet fuckery. As Taako the person, as something tangible, she holds him close and she soothes him and she lets him know, over and over, she loves him _too._

“I know you love me, babe, baby,” she says, in a soft voice that he has every right to _fucking hate_ because it means she’s treating him too fragile and gentle and no one _needs_ to do that for him right now because he’s _fine,_ okay. “I know, I know. It’s okay. You’re _okay._ Swear.”

She plants a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Trapped,” he says, or he thinks he says. “I got--I couldn’t open the-- _Angus._ ”

“Angus is fine, Taaks,” she tries to let him know. “He’s fine and he’s safe, I _promise_ you that. You just locked the door at some point is all, but you’re not trapped. I swear.”

“Fuck,” he spits. “ _Fuck._ ”

“I’m right here,” she promises.

For now, that has to be enough.

It has to be, but that doesn’t mean it _is._

“You’re _keeping_ things from me,” he babbles, almost as if it’s not under his control. “Why are you both _lying_ to me?” He bristles, tries to scoot back, and though there’s pain written all over her face Lulu has enough sense to let him be.

“I know it might be hard to believe,” she says softly, “I understand. But we’re not lying at all, I… I bet my _life_ on it, Taako.”

“Don’t you _dare,_ ” he hisses at her. “I know enough to know that doesn’t mean _shit,_ not to _you,_ not _anymore. Angus._ ”

“He’s fine, babe.”

“Am--amulet,” he stammers uselessly, curled in on himself.

“Not anymore,” she says, inching closer to him, and this time she dares to grasp his trembling hands, looking him right in the eyes. “Taako, do you know… ...do you know how _scared_ I was being inside the umbrastaff? I thought I’d--I thought I’d never get out. Do you know that?”

He nods numbly, berating his hands for shaking in a distant kind of way.

“You do. You do know that, huh, that sometimes I thought I’d…  I’d never get to be free to see you again.” There’s a lump in her throat now, a very real feeling in her eyes, and Taako has to try and believe in it with all he’s fucking got. “Black curtains everywhere, nothing but fleeting awareness of your voice and guesswork at--at whatever you were going through. And sometimes, I--Barry can vouch for this--I get worried I’m still back there.”

“You do?” Wow, his voice is too small.

She smiles sadly, nodding. “Uh-huh. I have nightmares, panic attacks, dissociation--the whole fuckin’ nine yards, Taako. I never wanted to bother you about it, you or anyone else. Barry _had_ to know because we… ...we fucking share everything now, but I could afford some distance with you.”

And right then, so suddenly, he feels _hideously_ betrayed. It’s such a mood swing it nearly gives him whiplash, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. He hates it, and he hates that she _kept_ this from him, and he hates that he _let_ her by being so godsdamn clueless, and she watches it flicker across his face for a sec.

“But… ...but I’m telling you _now,_ Taako, because you need to know.” She still won’t stop looking in his eyes. “I’m telling you, because--because guess what? It’s _easy_ to feel trapped after bullshit like that, like what I went through, like what you went through. It’s _hard_ to feel free, no matter how long it’s been.”

She moves her hands, gentle, through his hair.

“But you can _do it,_ Taaks. We can do it because _neither of us is alone._ Never, ever alone, not… ...not ever again, okay? We can learn. To be _free._ ”

Taako has nothing to say; he’s surprised to find he’s crying, hot and thick tears pouring down his cheeks.

“And I know that doesn’t make sense to you,” she says, letting him rest up against her. “Not right now and not yet. But one day, it will. And--oh, Taako. On that day? You’ll feel the _world._ The wind and the wild and the salt of the sea, the thrill of a body, of _your_ body. You’ll _feel_ it, how real this world is… ...and… ...and how _beautiful._ ”

He pauses to listen to her breathing. “When?”

“Give it time,” she murmurs, a voice is a gentle hum. “Just time, babe. We’ll… ...we’ll be okay. You’ll see. I'm willing to wait if you are.”

He can’t trust it, but it’s still enough.

After he agrees to these terms, Taako sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the cool thing about this concept is that, at the beginning of April which is typically a rough month for me bc LOL PTSD, i was ready to tackle this project as a sort of way to heal myself. "Luster" is brilliantly written, and one of the most amazing pieces of fiction this fandom has to offer--you can quote me on that. But it's also a very difficult read, and so this takes a lot of mental energy for me to write as I, too, reread and experience the original piece. And I... ...went through a really traumatic breakup unexpectedly right around the time I was going to... conquer this. SO. it's been on hold. and i still have my reservations abt this whole thing. but i hope you enjoy it anyway. <3 thanks always to Sunny for being rad and to you all for being the best.

**Author's Note:**

> well, here i am, attempting to follow up one of this fandom's most notorious hits. i'm well aware that it hasn't even been finished yet, it's just -- in the Discord, Sunny was talking about how she'd encourage fic about her fic. and i've wanted to write about the recovery from the events of "Luster" for such a long time. as such, right now, this is just a prologue or a concept. if people like it, or seem to be interested, i think i will expand. thanks for your support. <3 i love you all.


End file.
